


two in a bed

by clarakent (niewanyin)



Category: DC Extended Universe
Genre: 5+1 Things, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Bottom Clark Kent, Drunken Confessions, Frottage, Humor, M/M, Rimming, Sharing a Bed, Smut, Top Bruce Wayne
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-09
Updated: 2020-06-09
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:48:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24617074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/niewanyin/pseuds/clarakent
Summary: Five times Clark and Bruce shared a bed and one time they slept together.
Relationships: Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne
Comments: 20
Kudos: 164
Collections: Fandom 5K 2020





	two in a bed

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Skitz_phenom](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skitz_phenom/gifts).



> I hope you like the fic!

i.

The red sun beats down on Clark's head, and for the first time that he can ever remember, he feels the burning heat. He wipes his face, wincing as the sweat stings his eyes. He rolls his shoulders as he sits down, feeling the burn in his legs.

He glares up at Bruce, who is perfectly fine from their long walk, and for the first time in his life, he understands just how angry he must have made his classmates at Smallville for being able to handle any challenge of nature without breaking a sweat. It's annoying as fuck, and he knows that Bruce can't help it because he has the benefit of knowing that his biology is making him immune to everything going on.

With his classmates, they had no idea and just thought he was born like that. He's seriously surprised that no one tried to murder him when he was a teenager.

And it's not made better by the fact that Clark has no endurance built up for a normal human constitution, unable to keep pace with Bruce even at his yellow sun levels. Clark resolves that as soon as he gets back to earth, he's going to make sure that he practices at least twice a week in a red sun bunker to make sure that if he ever ends up in this situation again, he won't be exhausted and ready to collapse after nearly an hour of walking in this hot desert son.

Which luckily is beginning to set, but Clark knows that just means that it's going to be getting cold over the night and they need to find shelter. At least Clark needs to, because he doesn't want to freeze to death on this alien planet that they got to by total accident by a shoddy transporter misfiring and none of them able to move fast enough in the millisecond it took for them to get here.

They have no doubt that they're going to be found, because Bruce, the wonderfully paranoid bastard, has a tracker implanted underneath his skin that when he checked as soon as they got here, was working just fine. So they just need to let the two brilliant scientists, the immortal princess, and the king of the seven seas rescue them.

But they didn't want to hang out in the middle of this desert, and trusted them to find them when they get to the planet.

Bruce laughs above him.

He grabs Clark's arm and pulls him up, and slings him across his back. It's not gentle and it hurts when he lands, and Clark can't help but think about the fact that he is always careful and considerate of his strength when he's helping people, but he would appreciate it if Bruce spared him the same courtesy. But then again, Clark has had decades to get used to his powers and Bruce has had decades to get used to living without powers, so he supposes that he can forgive him for the learning curve.

Bruce carries him slung around his shoulder, and he's clearly enjoying the role reversal, but Clark does take note that Bruce doesn't even attempt flying, which is a good move. He just trudges through the desert until finally, finally they see a cave in the distance and Clark could nearly weep with relief. Bruce uses his new super speed to get over there in spurts, and luckily, the cave is devoid of any sort of alien life. Actually this entire planet seems to be devoid of life at all. He doesn't know where in the galaxy this even is.

Bruce sets him down as he searches further into the cave, and Clark lays down on the ground, glad to feel the cooling relief on his skin as he takes breath after breath. He never realized . . . he never realized how fragile humans were. He objectively knew, but he can only feel it now, when the cold earth is underneath his skin as he tries to fight off the heat in his body, the cramping in his stomach from hunger, the thirst in his throat. Things he's never really needed, but now he does. It reminds him that despite their claims, Kryptonians are not gods, that they had their own weakness that the yellow sun always hides.

He's lost in thought until he feels calloused fingers brushing away his hair from his forehead, and he looks up to see Bruce's worried face above him, frowning harshly and with care. "You're shivering," he says, and Clark suddenly realizes that he is.

Huh, that's strange.

He hadn't even noticed.

But not that Bruce has called it to his attention, it's all he can think about as his teeth chatter and he tries to wrap his arms around himself to warm up, even though he knows it's not going to work.

Bruce heaves a great sigh out of his chest, and then lays down on the ground, pulling Clark close to him, and the warmth that he's gained from the red sun gathering in his veins is enough to make him close his eyes in relief. He feels better now, so much better, but it isn't enough.

He wants to be closer, and he wraps his own arms around Bruce and buries his face in his neck.

They wake to Diana walking through a portal, with a raised eyebrow and nothing more, and he thanks her for her kindness in his mind, and tries his best not to think about how warm Bruce felt next to him, and that is part of absorbing the red sun, or if it's just _Bruce_.

ii.

The second time is when they're attending a party, or rather the aftereffect of attending a party. Bruce has a strong alcohol tolerance, but it was tested tonight as he slammed down shot after shot, forcing mobsters to keep pace with him while also sacrificing his mental clarity, something he holds dear to him, and giving them his trust to finish the mission. It's a trust that Clark does not intend to take lightly, though he has to admit that a drunk Bruce, and honestly drunk Bruce and not faking it, is someone that is actually. . . .

Funny and sweet.

Bruce is a good, kind man with a big heart and a cunning wit and sarcastic lilt, but Clark as much as he cares for him would never call him funny and sweet. And yet that's what he is in Clark's arms as he carries him up to his bedroom in the newly built manor, allowing Bruce to call out directions to a room that Clark had never thought that he'd see.

Though of course, he doesn't want to think about why he was even thinking about it in the first place.

He lets Bruce drag him to where he needs to be, a smile creeping on his face as he thinks about how much it means to him to be able to see the older man like this. He looks more carefree than Clark has ever, ever seen him.

He leads him carefully into the room, putting Bruce down on the bed and taking off his shoes. Images of taking off his remaining clothes flash through his mind, but they're images that he fights down so that he can focus on the important task at hand. It doesn't stop him from wildly blushing though as he thinks about what Bruce would honestly look like, naked and wanting in a bed, but he opts to ignore all the parts of his body waking up.

He throws the shoes to the side and picks up a blanket at the foot of the bed to cover up Bruce, but Bruce, sensing somehow that Clark was getting ready to cover him up and then leave, is ready, grabbing Clark's arm and flipping him so that Clark's on his back and Bruce is laying down on his chest, covering Clark with his muscles (a significant amount and if Clark were a regular human, he would honestly probably be having trouble breathing at this point). His head is right over Clark's heart, and this grown-ass man has the audacity to have an adorable pout on his face as he listens to the beating heart, and then he takes a deep breath of relief. "Good, good," he mumbles, and Clark has to wonder what's so good, but Bruce doesn't bother explaining, which means that Clark has to ask, "What's good?"

"Your heartbeat," Bruce slurs, tapping Clark's chest. "I can hear it. I'm glad."

Clark can't help but smile at the earnest admission. "Of course, you can hear it."

Bruce shakes his head. "Couldn't always. You scared everyone. No idea where it went, no idea what happened, everyone crying, Mother and Father died before I was strong enough to save them too. But you came back." Bruce's head tips back and he looks at him beseeching brown eyes, figuring out _something_ from what he sees there. "You came back so the next time things get bad, I can save you." He shakes his head. "But they never came back. Can't ever save them." A broken laugh that sounds like a sob escapes Bruce. "Sometimes, you just aren't strong enough. Sometimes, you don't get second chances." His hand moves to pat Clark's face, but it's really more like he slaps the center of his palm right into the middle of Clark's face a few times and then calls it a day. "You're my second chance though. Glad to have you." And then he moves his face so it's right into Clark's front and says with a petulant frown that Clark can see, but he actually _hear,_ "Now go the fuck to sleep."

A laugh wants to escape Clark at those final words, but his mind replays the early ones and he can't. He can't laugh at Bruce, not when he said the things he said, making Clark just want to wrap his arms around Bruce and hold him tight, not leaving him because it's clear that Bruce considers him a person who left, and there's been a lot of people that have left Bruce.

So he does. He wraps his arms around the older man, closes his eyes, and waits for the morning to come and the awkward conversation to follow.

It's actually not that awkward, which manages to actually make it more awkward.

iii.

Ever since the night that Bruce fell asleep on him, Clark has been unable to stop thinking about his death, the details of it something that he remembers vividly, but he tries to keep locked down to a special part of his mind that he doesn't want to look at.

Of course, things don't actually work like that.

He's staying at the manor as they let Bruce figure out the compounds of a mysterious toxin that's been showing up in different cities all around the world, and Clark doesn't want to return to Metropolis. He's been seeing his death everywhere lately, and while he's been unable to say how bad it's been, he feels strange and itchy in his skin, unable to truly focus on anything, especially his job.

He's hoping that a night in Gotham can help, and he knows that Bruce won't mind it, giving him a simple grunt and pointing at a random door when Clark asks if it's okay. With a grateful smile, Clark runs to Metropolis, quickly backs, and is back in Gotham in a matter of minutes, Bruce sitting on the bed as he watches him do all of this.

When he finishes, Bruce merely says one thing. "You can keep this room. It's yours now."

With that, he gets up and leaves.

Clark doesn't think he's ever going to be able to truly understand Bruce Wayne.

And yet . . . he doesn't think that it's Metropolis that's been causing the problems in his mind, but rather himself. Of course, walking down the street and seeing the city changed because of the destruction wrought on it is something that he cannot feel good or safe about, but it's not the same thing as closing his eyes and feeling himself in darkness, blinking in and out of consciousness, waking up and screaming and then closing his eyes and finding himself repeating it all over again.

He hasn't been able to visit Smallville in weeks, making up excuses to his mother and hoping that she doesn't realize the truth.

The dark ceiling is not the same thing as the dark top of the coffin, but the fear still chokes him all the same. He knows what this is in him, this is trauma, but he still can't frame it in his own mind, because he's Superman, he's not someone with trauma, no he's suppose to be someone more, he's not suppose to be-to be-

A strong hand clamps down on his shoulder, and Clark's eyes fly open, his heat vision activated, until he sees that it's Bruce standing above him, not Zod, not Luthor, not Doomsday, not anyone who wants to hurt him or his city or the people that he cares about. He shakes in his bed, unable to say the words that he needs to say, but praying that Bruce can tell that he needs something more, that he needs- he needs-

Bruce groans, and then tells him to move over, laying down on top of the blankets and then pulling Clark close to him, placing his head right over his heart, just like Bruce laid on himself a few months ago. "Close your eyes," his deep voice rumbles. "Breathe in rhythm to the beat. It keeps you steady." A hand curls into Clark's head, playing with the strands and massaging the scalp, soothing him more than Clark can even begin to say. "Useless to think about not panicking, it's just going to make you do it more. Just ride it out, and remember that it isn't going to be forever."

Clark tries, trying to stabilize himself. It's hard and it's a struggle, but Bruce's heartbeat is study and calm and it's enough. His eyes flutter shut, unable to open them even as if he's able to stay awake. Bruce is talking he realizes, about some case that he is only half-aware and it's clearly Bruce's version of rambling. His breathing is steady, and he curls his fingers into Bruce's shirt, the soft fabric making him hum in contentment, and a soft laugh escapes Bruce.

"I'm glad that you're here," he admits, and Clark thinks that Bruce thinks he's asleep, and he can't muster up enough energy to tell him anything. Bruce sighs above him, and for the first time since he came into the room, his heartbeat stutters. "This is going to sound fucking ridiculous, but I think you're my first actual friend." He laughs. "It's a little sad, especially at my age." He rubs Clark's back. "But . . . you're a really good first friend."

iv.

At this point, they're used to sharing a bed together. Well, used to it is probably the wrong word, but it's not the big deal that it once would have been. Clark knows how Bruce likes to curl his hands into Clark's side as he clings and Bruce likes to bitch about how Clark drools. So when they're told by the desk clerk that the only room left in this motel is a single bed, they share one single glance, shrug, and then Bruce grabs the key while Clark takes the bags.

They're only going to be here for one night anyway, because it's late and Bruce is tired (he says he's not, but Clark can tell that he's tired and just wants to get to a warm bed for the night) and Clark knows how to fix an engine, but he can wait to do it until the morning if it'll get Bruce to rest by pretending like he needs Bruce's help and Bruce's eyes aren't able to see in the dark like Clark's can.

The fact that Bruce isn't calling out the million and one holes in Clark's story tells him exactly all that he needs to know about how tired Bruce is.

Indeed, as soon as they get upstairs, Bruce collapses on the bed, waving Clark away when he asks if he's okay that he can take the first shower and giving him a thumbs up. He's snoring before Clark finishes putting the bags down and closing the bathroom door, and he's pouting once again when Clark gets out of the shower and wakes him up.

"Ugh," he groans. "Do I have to?" he whines, sounding more like someone Barry's age than a man old enough to be his father. "Just wanna sleep."

Clark can and will do a lot of things if he has to, but he will not spend the night with a man that hasn't taken a shower when Clark himself is nice and clean. Plus, a shower will just make Bruce feel better and that's all that he needs. If Bruce really pushed it, he would give in, he knows it, but even Bruce knows that he'll feel better if he just gets clean, and stands up on shaky legs and stumbles towards the bathroom, closing the door shut with a slam.

Clark gets underneath the blankets, sighing over how cool they feel on his skin, and burrowing his head into the pillow, closing his eyes as he decides that he doesn't need to be awake when Bruce gets out of the shower. He's almost asleep when he hears the water turn off, and he's even closer to it by the time Bruce pads into the room, slid underneath the blanket, rolls over, sling an arm over Clark's waist, and pulls him close, nuzzling his nose into Clark's hair.

His eyes widen, and Clark suddenly feels very much awake and alert, turning over with an open mouth to stare at Bruce in shock. "What the fuck?" he whispers, and Bruce hmmms with amusement. They've done this three times before, but it's because of survival or alcohol or trauma, not Bruce deciding that he wants to snuggle with Clark. He has no idea what to do right now.

"What are you doing?" he hisses, and he can feel more than see Bruce's shrug.

"You're warm," he says, like that explains it all. When Clark cuddled Bruce on the alien planet, he had never felt this cold before in his life, but Bruce? Bruce is just doing this now to be a little shit. He opens his mouth to argue, but Bruce shuts him up when he says, "You want me to rest, right?" He shuffles and manages to hold Clark even tighter to him. "I rest better when I'm warm."

Oh this fucking asshole.

Clark opens his mouth to argue, but he thinks that Bruce will call his bluff about the engine, and isn't this what he wanted?

Which means that likely Bruce is going this just to make him call his bluff, which means that Clark can absolutely not give in and show his frustration right now. So he buries his face in the pillow, shrugs, and mumbles, "Fine," and smirks as he hears Bruce's sputtering.

Of course, Bruce can't give in at this point and admit that he didn't even mean this, so he just buries his face even more into Clark's hair, and Clark does his best not to flush with his entire body as he feels Bruce's strong hand to span across his chest, the hand itself so warm that Clark wonders how Bruce could even try to pretend that he was cold when he's a living furnace.

They lay there for a few awkward minutes, both wide awake as they unexpectedly cuddle, but then Bruce's breathing becomes more calm and steady, breathing lightly along Clark's neck and Clark finds it just as soothing as he did during his panic attack, except this time he notices more about _Bruce_ himself and before he knows it, he's asleep.

v.

They've shared a bed four times, and while Clark can look at Bruce and easily see how incredibly attractive the man is and he will admit to think about Bruce in _that_ way, the times they've slept together have never had a shade of sleeping together in that way, but this time, they're actively trying to imply that they've been having sex so that they can get this duchess upset enough to spill her secrets to Diana. Clark actually doesn't understand why this needs to be the plan, but both Diana and Arthur seem adamant that this is a plan that's going to work and Clark just needs to trust them.

So he takes a deep breath, and does what Diana tells him to do. He ruffles his hair, slides out of his clothes until he's just in his underwear, and does his best not to look at Bruce who's doing the same exact thing, and then they slide into the bed, staring at each other with uncertainty. "Alright," Bruce says with a heaving sigh. "Let's just . . . let's just do this."

Clark blinks. "What are we even supposed to be doing?"

Bruce opens his mouth and gapes like a fish, clearly at a loss of what to say. He knows that Bruce has had sex before, with men and women both, and he knows that Bruce knows that he's had sex with men and women before, but staring at each other in this bed, clearly needing to be doing something, they're both at a loss.

Finally, Bruce sighs, and then surges forward to trap Clark's lips in a kiss, placing a hand on his face, a gentle counterpart to the harshness of the kiss. Clark makes a muffled sound of shock, and Bruce uses it as an opportunity to slide his tongue along Clark's lips and then into Clark's mouth, tasting of the champagne that they had earlier, and Clark moans, because one thing can absolutely be said of Bruce and that is that he's an incredible kisser, knowing just how to make Clark respond to his body.

Clark is so taken by the kiss that he doesn't even notice Bruce rolling them so that Clark is on top of him, skimming his hands over Clark's back and deepening the kiss. He only stops for a moment to take a break for air, air that Clark doesn't need and he ends up chasing the kiss. Bruce laughs, but still lunges up to capture Clark's lips once again. "Well, well, aren't we a beggar?"

"Whatever," Clark says. "You aren't exactly a chooser." 

Bruce's laughter is loud and bright, and Clark decides to shut him up by pressing their lips together, loving how good Bruce feels underneath him, a leg coming in-between Clark's legs and rubbing against his cock, and Clark's eyes flutter over how incredibly good it feels.

He moves from Bruce's lips to his neck, taking enjoyment in the way that makes Bruce twist and writhe. He doesn't notice anything going on around him, and how good it feels to have underneath him. He vaguely hears the duchess coming in and gasping as she sees them, but Clark doesn't pay it any mind, even as she runs out of the room crying and to Diana's waiting arms.

He doesn't care about anything other than kissing Bruce more and more, getting deeper and deeper into the overwhelming _Bruce-ness_ that's in this bed right now, at least not until he hears Arthur knock on the door and say, "Coming in," forcing them apart in a jump, looking around in shock. They meet each other's eyes, and then look away quickly, unable to handle the heavy gaze of the other.

Arthur just looks between the two of them with a smirk, and Clark doesn't know what to do. He stands up in a hurry, throwing the blankets off himself, and grabbing his clothes, throwing them on in a hurry, trying his best not to think about anything going on right now.

vi.

It's three days later when Bruce knocks on his apartment door and then lets himself in, not caring about Clark's squawk of protest, just standing in the middle of his living room with his arms crossed over his chest as he stares at Clark with narrowed eyes in a suit that costs more than a month's rent.

It's unfair how ungodly attractive he is.

His eyes rank up and down Clark's body, and that's when he makes his move, striding over to Clark and pressing his mouth against his with a force that Clark welcomes, moaning as Bruce slides his hands through Clark's hair and tugging on the strands, sending shoots of pleasure all throughout Clark's body. He wraps his own hands in Bruce's shirt, keeping him as close to him as possible.

Bruce pushes him towards the bed, and then actually pushes him onto the bed, and Clark doesn't mind being moved around as much as he thought he would, unable to fully comprehend the new emotions that are being awakened in him at Bruce's movements, but being very, very invested in them anyway.

In short order, their clothes are divested from their bodies, and Clark looks at the glory of Bruce's naked body for the first time, his eyes wide as he takes him in. Bruce is a tall man, even taller than him, and has the broadness to go with that height. He works out to be Batman, and he has the scars to go along with it, scattered all throughout his body, accentuating muscles and Clark wants to kiss each and every single one. But then he gets to Bruce's cock and his mouth goes dry, because he wants that cock inside him now. He very much wants that cock inside him now.

Bruce smirks like he knows what he's thinking, and it gets wider when Clark whispers out like it's a prayer, "Fuck me." He just laughs as he strides over to the bed, pushing Clark down onto the bed and striding his lap, and Clark groans when he grinds their hard cocks together, seeing stars behind his eyes and unable to fully say what he wants and just very, very desperately needing more of Bruce's touch. Anyway that he wants him.

Bruce wraps his big hand around both of their cocks, and teasingly slides it up and then down, and Clark's eyes flutter back as the sheer pleasure overwhelms him, a whine coming out of his throat as his back arches. "Fuck," he whispers, and Bruce just grins as he says, "Soon." He just grips their cocks a little tighter and drags his hand up again, forcing Clark to gasp yet again.

Bruce takes pity on him, and yet also clearly hates him, by removing his hand and moving out of his lap, prying Clark's legs apart and lifting up his hips so that he can bury his face in between Clark's thighs and lick his hole, making Clark kick out in unexpected delight, his eyes rolling back in his head. Lois has done this to him a few times, wanting to test his stamina, his endurance, but Bruce feels so different from her and it's been such a long time and he- he-

God, he fucking loves this.

He can't take the pure bliss that runs through his body, especially when Bruce adds a finger and makes him feel too heavy and hot. It's the first time he's ever slept with a man, but not the first time he's been on the receiving end of anal (Lois _really_ wanted to test his stamina). It's a different sensation, but it's not a new one. Just thicker fingers and the knowledge that what's going inside him won't be silicone. 

One finger becomes two and Bruce's fingers are slowly curling and scissoring in him, biting the inside of his thighs, digging his tongue inside of Clark's body, licking his cock, basically making Clark's lower body feel like it's the most important thing in this world. He wiggles his ass the moment that Bruce stops, and while he might find that embarrassing before, but he can't think about that right now. He just wants more, more Bruce and more pleasure and more of everything that Bruce is willing to give him.

Bruce just laughs, but turns him over. "Grip the headboard," he whispers into Clark's ear as he spreads Clark's legs a little more. "And tell me when it's too much."

"I'm indestructible," Clark gasps out, unable to think straight beside getting Bruce inside him yesterday and keeping him inside him for the rest of his life. Again, Bruce just laughs, but then his voice drops more than a few octaves as he says, "But your mind isn't. So if it gets too much. . . . Just promise me that you'll let me know."

Clark doesn't have a good response to that, so he nods his head, willing to let Bruce do anything to him, but wanting to keep his trust, bending his head down and letting the other take the control that he's giving him. "Come on," he whispers. "Just fuck me."

Bruce laughs. "Oh, I will."

He slams into Clark, and Clark bites his lip so he doesn't disturb the neighbors with his wail, but Bruce hears it anyway, pressing a smile onto the base of his spine as he fucks into Clark so hard that if Clark were human, he would be bruised and marked all over right now.

He's actually a little sad that he's not going to be. He rolls his hips, trying to take in all of Bruce that's possible.

Bruce fucks him long and hard, and Clark can barely handle it right now, the pure release of emotions feeling too much and pushing back, grinding his ass against Bruce's hips until the older man comes, filling Clark up and collapsing to the side, dragging Clark along with him as he himself comes, kissing the back of his neck over and over again as he stays inside of Clark even as his come begin to slide out, and Clark leans back and presses a kiss to his lips, smiling into it as he feels the best he's ever felt in his life.

"Fuck," Bruce whispers into his skin, sounding and looking like he just went through the wringer. "God, that was. . . ."

"Amazing?" Clark asks with a quirk of his brow, trying to play it off as a joke, but honestly wanting to hear Bruce tell him that he was good, he was great, Bruce liked having sex with him.

Bruce smiles at him as he rolls over onto his side, laying down next to Clark.

"Yeah," he says as he starts to trace words into Clark's skin, _Kryptonian_ words because of course he's learning that language as well. He's pretty sure the word he just traced was incredible. "Yeah, it was."

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed!


End file.
